


Winner Takes All

by Inkmage (Fallowsthorn)



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Circuit Sex, Humor, Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Silly, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallowsthorn/pseuds/Inkmage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tron meets Avast the anti-virus program.  And, well, Avast manifests as a cross between Captain Jack Sparrow and Dread Pirate Roberts.  So, Tron's stuck in a firewall with a drunk, swashbuckling pirate who is either insane or a genius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winner Takes All

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt on the Tron Kink Meme: http://tronkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3950.html?thread=2860142

Tron tensed and looked up. Something was off. He'd felt this before, but it came as a surprise to feel it now.  
  
Remembering the times that Flynn had done something to change the Grid and not said anything until the programs had all felt the repercussions of being unprepared, Tron frowned and he found something uncircuited to hold on to. Some of those changes had involved rather experimental datascaping.   
  
But all that happened was a message appearing in the datasphere, in glowing User letters. It read, "Guys? Sorry I don't have time to digitize and tell you in person, but Alan's trying to pull me out the door as I type this. I think I found a way to connect the Grid to my laptop without the risk of either imploding. It'll be slow, and we won't be able to do much, but short of moving the Grid to another system, this is the best way. You'll be live in about a millicycle, I won't be back until later, I think. Tron, make sure nothing really bad happens, okay? --Sam"   
  
Tron let go of the building and breathed a sigh of relief. A connection, after so long spent on the same system! He wondered what it would look like, now that over a thousand cycles had gone by; whether it would still be the white-walled corridors of his memory or something else entirely. Probably the latter, judging by the Grid itself.   
  
He was glad for the message. Even if it was rather short-sighted, at least he'd have some warning of a possible threat. Not that he thought Sam's computer carried any viruses, but there had been some worry that the Grid was too old to connect correctly with any other system. A millicycle would give him enough time to reassure any confused or frightened programs and start making his way to the I/O tower, where the connection would most likely occur.   
  
Come to think of it, he was sorry he wouldn't get to see the looks on the new programs' faces when the connection opened. About half of them were native to the Grid, even after... all that had happened, and knew nothing of any other system beyond what they'd been told. The ENCOM programs had an awareness of other systems coded into them, but the Grid programs did not. It would be... surprising for them, to say the least.  
  
When the alloted time was up, Tron was sitting on the deck of a solar sailer, staring out at the Sea. The Portal had been used too long ago to still be active, especially since Sam hadn't digitized. For now, pillars of rock still dotted the Sea around him, but Tron was nearing the end of them – the edge of where the reintegration blast had obliterated everything but the Sea.   
  
Tron turned his thoughts away from that course. They would only serve to make him melancholy, and of no use for the task ahead. And besides.... Tron looked up to the datasphere above. There was the connection to look forward to.   
  
Unlike his father, SamFlynn explained the User expressions he constantly used, at least when asked about them. It didn't really make what he said any more comprehensible, but there were a few phrases that Tron liked, and remembered. SamFlynn had used one of them when he was talking about a sunrise, and for the first time, Tron, looking at the datasphere and watching the connection come into being, understood what it meant.   
  
The sky was on fire.   
  
The usually random electrical discharges wound around each other, coming from as far away as the City to arc together at a point fairly close to the Portal. The effect was unlike any Tron had seen before, and it was mesmerizing.   
  
Unfortunately, it was also blinding, especially when it had gathered enough power and stretched itself between the hastily constructed platform by the Portal and a distant point beyond the datasphere. Tron, through a haze of warnings that his pupils had just contracted too rapidly, saw a faint answering arc, a greener blue than the Grid's, touch the very end of the electric strand from his side.   
  
Both arcs flared at the moment of connection, then winked out without so much as a sound. He'd have to wait until he reached the Portal to see if it had worked.   
  
There followed the longest sixty microcycles Tron had ever spent on a solar sailer. If he'd been about a thousand cycles younger, he might have paced from one end of the sailer to the other, but half a hundred cycles of listening to Flynn's “cen” thing, relayed unintentionally through Clu, had rendered him able to sit in the same place for millicycles, no matter how excited he was. Whatever he'd thought of the rest of what Clu – or Flynn – said, that bit was at least good for maintaining dignity.   
  
At last, he was at the Portal. Tron typed the City's coordinates into the sailer's display so it would travel back on its own – he had a couple light batons with him, he'd be fine – and took a running leap onto the platform as the sailer started to move. Only when he was safely on the platform did he looked around, with bated breath, to find....   
  
Nothing. Absolutely nothing had changed since the last time he'd been there. Tron sighed in disappointment and walked over to the Portal, figuring that while he was here, he may as well leave a message for SamFlynn saying the connection had failed.   
  
About halfway there, something flickered in his peripheral vision. Tron spun around, disc already in his hand. But the flicker hadn't been a program.... That was weird. Tron was staring at a flat line, almost an oval, floating about a disc's width above the platform. It was tall enough for him to reach up and not be able to touch the top of it, and it had very definitely not been there before.   
  
Warily, Tron moved closer to the line. As he did, it widened and turned from an oval into a proper circle. Hmm... what if...?   
  
Walking to the other side achieved the opposite effect; eventually the circle/line disappeared completely, proving Tron's theory. This was the connection, visible from only one side. Huh. Tron half-wondered why as he walked back, but he found he couldn't really care. There was finally a  _connection_  and he could actually fulfill his programming and do what he was meant to, really, actually meant to-!   
  
Poking his head into the connection revealed a sort of atrium-like room, with one of the same sort of connections on the other wall, dark green-blue in color. A solitary program lounged around near the other connection, leaning against the wall and looking asleep, or at least extremely bored. The program had a few more visible circuits than Tron, but not many – his most defining feature was two lines extending from the side of each hip to meet in an arrowed point just below his sternum, and a vertical line extending from the point down to the middle of his belly.   
  
That must be the program SamFlynn, or rather SamFlynn's system, had sent with the requisite information. Apparently they should have sent someone else, but Sam would have immediately accepted the Grid's information – he knew it didn't have any viruses – so perhaps the program knew he just didn't have anything to do.   
  
Tron shrugged and walked forward briskly. Since the Grid wasn't really made to connect with another system, he'd have to look around a bit in the other system first, before okaying any transfer. He wouldn't have to look much, for obvious reasons, but he still had to look.   
  
Just before he set a foot through the other connection, he stopped. Not voluntarily; his own programming had stopped him, which meant there was some unknown threat in the way. Tron looked down and saw a shimmering, green-blue line of heat, not unlike the edge of a disc, in his path. Following it to its origin produced the not-so-asleep program holding the hilt and scrutinizing Tron from hooded eyes.   
  
“I'm Avast, mate,” the program said, voice low and faintly accented. “Who in the Recycle Bin are you?”

* * *

 

Tron blinked. Why couldn't he go through...? The connection had been accepted, hadn't it? “I am Tron,” he said automatically. “Our system isn't properly formatted to accept a connection, I need to look around in yours as a formality.” 

Avast tilted his head to the side lazily and shoved himself away from the wall, still blocking Tron's path with the lightsword. “Well, that's going to be something of a problem, because I don't actually know you, and the requests I'm sending to see whether you're a threat or not aren't being answered.”   
  
Tron fought the urge to cover his eyes with his hand. SamFlynn hadn't approved the connection completely, delete it! Ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that was predicting doom, Tron said, “You can't just assume I'm not a threat?”   
  
Avast gave him a Look and didn't dignify that with a response. Tron sighed. “It was worth a try.”   
  
“I'll need to see your disc, unless SamFlynn shows up and says you're not a threat,” Avast told him.  
  
Tron hadn't actually heard most of Avast's sentence. He'd heard the part where he handed his disc to someone who was not a User, someone unknown, and the rest had been drowned out by his entire being saying NO. No, no, that would not happen, he could not let it happen. He had spent a thousand cycles running with the consequences of letting that happen, and far, far too many others had derezzed from those consequences. He could not.   
  
“Ah, mate?” Avast said, a bit uneasily. “Your hand....”   
  
Tron, pulled out of his code-level reaction, looked down at his hand, and discovered he'd been gripping his disc so tightly that he'd started to cut away at his own pixels where his palm rested on the sharp edge. He docked it hastily, ignoring the pixels occasionally coming free. SamFlynn could fix it when he got back.   
  
“Access to my programming is not an option.”   
  
Avast frowned, but didn't push the issue, probably because of Tron's tone and almost certainly because of Tron's hand. “Then we'll both be sitting here when the connection times out... unless....”   
  
Tron waited. When Avast didn't say anything, he realized he'd missed a cue of some sort and said, “Unless what?”   
  
Avast flashed him a grin. “We could settle it through a contest. We're in neutral territory, neither of us has an advantage here. No extra energy or whatever.”   
  
Tron shot him a wry look in return. “You forget. I have a disc; you have a sword. We're mismatched in that regard; you have no range.”   
  
Avast's grin turned into a smirk, and he docked his sword, deactivating it. “Not that kind of contest, love,” he purred, and advanced.   
  
Ohhh.  _That_  kind of contest. Um.... Tron voiced the first thought that came to mind. “You're either glitching or miscoded.”   
  
“Or a genius,” Avast said lightly. He was standing awkwardly close to Tron, leaning into the other program's personal space and letting his movements become slick and sensual. “Think about it. I'm not about to fight you, not when my system potentially needs me, and not when I can't get any answer at all from my User. Unless you're suicidal, you probably feel the same way.” He paused, perhaps to let Tron refute that. When Tron confirmed through his silence that he was not, in fact, suicidal, Avast kept talking.   
  
“This way, we both – well, at least one of us gets a free overload out of it, and we're none the worse for wear. So, why not?”   
  
Tron hated to admit it, but when he put it like that, even the possibly-glitching program had a point. He sighed. He wasn't shelving the theory than there was something wrong with Avast's processor, but he may as well go along with the idea. They had the same User, after all, it wasn't as though the other system was unknown. Time for some rules, then.   
  
Tron twisted away from Avast, who looked put out but didn't follow. “If you overload first, I get to check out your system.”   
  
Avast nodded. “And if it's you, I get to check your code.”   
  
“Fair enough,” Tron said, after pausing to shove down his immediate reaction of  _Users no were you coded backwards as a first copy._  “No weapons, no hacking, if either of us says stop we stop.”   
  
“Yes, okay, fine,” Avast said. Judging by his tone, he'd said it mostly so Tron would stop being boring. Both of them set aside their various weapons and stood across from each other.   
  
Tron watched Avast. “Well?”   
  
The younger program rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “Do I have to do everything around here?” He stepped forward and put a hand on Tron's shoulder, to no effect. “I guess so.”   
  
Tron had the feeling that Avast could possibly get very annoying if he kept taking. However, the other program had quieted some since that last statement, some of the ones in his personality changing over to zeroes. Also, Tron wouldn't win if he didn't do something, but it wasn't like this was an area of his expertise.... He settled for just standing there and hoping he'd come up with something clever sooner rather than later.   
  
Avast, in spite of his “let's get to it” attitude, seemed to be more interested in examining Tron than anything else. He stepped closer and lightened his touch, watching as he played his fingers over circuits. “This isn't your original format, is it?” he murmured, not looking up.   
  
Tron wasn't sure whether it was a question, so he answered anyway, as quietly as Avast had asked. “No. I'm from an older system, I had to reformat to run in my current one.”   
  
“Mm. I can feel where your old circuits should be showing. And you haven't been doing what you're made to, not really.”   
  
There wasn't much he could say to that. “No.”   
  
“I think I'd like to see that, some millicycle,” Avast continued.   
  
Tron blinked, but said nothing, and rested his hands on Avast's hips. Avast slowly moved forward enough to press up against Tron, to get more contact.   
  
It was... nice, Tron supposed, but if this was how Avast was planning to win, it was either going to take a long time, or it wasn't going to work.   
  
Then Avast's thumb slipped over over of the exposed circuits that made up the T on Tron's chest.   
  
Oh.  _Oh._  Oh, that felt  _good._    
  
Avast leaned back a little, giving Tron a strange look. “Are you  _purring_?”   
  
“Um...”   
  
“You know what, never mind. I'd like a little competition, mate.”   
  
Tron blinked and realized he'd been standing there letting Avast manipulate his circuits. He took a moment to dredge up the reason for reciprocating from the bottom of a pleasure-induced haze, then smirked.   
  
“Nice face,” Avast murmured. “Not sure whether that's a good or – mmm.”   
  
Tron broke the kiss just long enough to say “Shut up,” in a rough voice.   
  
“Mmm, no.” Avast walked forward until Tron's back was against the wall. “Because I want to hear every single noise I can get to come out of your mouth, and I can't do that if you're... doing whatever that was.”   
  
By this time, Tron's hands had started moving, half of their own accord, dragging at Avast's circuits, centering on the triangle point on his chest. He kissed Avast once more, defiantly, then let him go to focus on what he was doing. Avast moaned and tipped his head back, exposing his throat. With his head out of the way, Tron could see a pattern of circuits winding their way along the underside of Avast's jaw and down the back of his neck.   
  
Avast blinked slowly, then tilted his head back down, regarded Tron for a moment, and bent to lick at the circuits on the bluer program's chest. Well, he wasn't all that blue anymore, neither of them were – both programs were mostly purple, Avast a darker shade than Tron, and both were staticky and exchanging electricity whenever their circuits got too close. The first time it'd happened, Tron had felt the abrupt rush of energy and half-gasped. Avast had looked at him, then grinned and started doing it on purpose.   
  
The contest wasn't much more than a faint background event in Tron's mind now. He was focused on moving with and against Avast, building up the charge between them, fingers and tongues and bodies sliding along the electric wire of circuits. Avast threw his head back again, and Tron took the opportunity to bring the back of his hand up to those thin circuits lining Avast's throat. Both of them lost their breath at the resulting transfer of energy.   
  
Avast paused to throw a smirk Tron's way, then ducked his head down and took Tron's fingers into his mouth. Tron was vaguely aware of wonderfully filthy noises being made, and since Avast's mouth was otherwise occupied, it must be him making them. He couldn't really bring himself to care; it certainly made Avast look delighted.   
  
Avast's tongue darted out and caught the edge of Tron's hand where he'd cut it; Tron's knees buckled and he had to brace himself against the wall to keep from falling over. Avast made a noise that was probably supposed to sound pleasantly amused and shoved his leg between Tron's to help. Tron glared at him, which was met by Avast taking Tron's fingers out of his mouth and starting to suck and lick at the cut instead.   
  
Users – Users, it was what he imagined sticking his hand in the Portal would be like, pure raw energy coursing through him, being taken from, given to, him, he was so close – Tron pressed the back of his free hand to Avast's circuits, pressed himself against Avast, fed him the same energy ricocheting through himself,  _so close, Users-_    
  
There was a sudden noise. Both programs snapped their heads up, their code overriding their mutual pleasure in order to get them to pay attention to the potential threat. After a moment, the voice repeated itself, faintly.   
  
“Tron?”   
  
Tron dropped his head onto Avast's shoulder, overload retreating by the croricycle. “Fuck.”  _He has the worst timing in the network._    
  
Avast looked like he agreed, and was considering mutiny. He propped himself up on his elbows – when had they ended up on the floor? - and said, “He's just at the I/O, he won't notice if we take a little longer. And what does that mean, anyway?”   
  
This time Tron was the one giving the other program A Look. “He'll notice, trust me. You'll probably find out why in a micro or two. And 'fuck' is something Users say when they're frustrated. Apparently it offends them a lot.”  
  
Avast nodded, clearly thinking Tron was glitching. Tron thought that was a bit rich coming from him, but let it go and pushed himself up to his knees, desperately trying (and mostly succeeding) to ignore the crackle of static as he moved. “Come on, we should look presentable, he is our User.”   
  
Avast scoffed, but slid away from Tron and got to his feet as well, with the same friction-induced electric burst. It took him a bit longer to get past that. “You're remarkably zealous.”   
  
“You're remarkably irreverent,” Tron retorted.   
  
“Bet you're only doing this because you were going to lose,” Avast muttered.   
  
It was around this time that SamFlynn figured out what the connection was, and walked through it.   
  
“Hey. Doing what?” he asked.   
  
Avast spun around on his heels, only to goggle at SamFlynn. His surprise immediately turned to suspicion, and Tron sensed him mapping out a route of escape or attack and getting ready to execute it. Tron, in turn, got ready to defend his User or escape with him in tow.   
  
SamFlynn, completely oblivious to all of this, merely said, “Do I want to know why you're both kinda purple?”   
  
Tron and Avast glanced at each other. Avast's look said,  _This is our User?_    
  
Tron's just said,  _Told you so._    
  
Turning back to SamFlynn, he said, “No, judging by Flynn's reactions. This is Avast. He's your system's security program. Avast, this is SamFlynn.” Introductions done with, Tron filled Avast in on why there was a User standing in front of him, and SamFlynn on why all three of them were getting nowhere, leaving out the part where Tron and Avast had decided to overload each other to see who would be getting access first. In retrospect, it didn't seem like all that bright of an idea.   
  
When he heard about the access problem, SamFlynn blinked. “Oh. Good thing the meeting got canceled, then. I just set it up and left, I didn't think.... Um, access to both comp – uh, systems is granted?” he said to the general air. Evidently he was enough of a User that it still worked from within the systems, because both connections went from darkly opaque to transparent. Curious, SamFlynn wandered closer to his personal computer's system.   
  
“After he leaves...” Avast began, in a low voice. Tron finished the thought. “Rematch. Yes.” He was going to be so distracted until then, delete it. Both of them began to follow SamFlynn, and when Tron brushed past Avast to get through the connection, a short burst of pent up energy flung itself between them.   
  
Tron, who'd had roughly a thousand cycles of practice at controlling his reactions, didn't let it visibly affect him. Avast, who  _hadn't,_  had to stifle a wide-eyed gasp. SamFlynn heard it and turned around. He stared at both programs for a moment, confused, then decided something and kept walking forward.   
  
Tron smirked. Frustrating, yes, but this was going to be  _fun._


End file.
